“I didn’t think you had it in you, man. Four Black Hands? You killed four of ‘em. Damn.” Crenshaw whistled. “I swear you’re the stupidest, craziest mother I ever met.”
Adrian was speechless as the reporter rattled off something about killings, and a woman wanted in connection with the Mexican Mafia, and gang-related deaths, blah, blah, blah…
“You left a serious mess. The shit has officially hit the fan. We got a shit buffet going on here.”
Looked like the world was not going to wait for Adrian to have any me time. “How do they know this has anything to do with me?”
“Somebody saw you running with a girl. And I don’t think you need me to tell you who the cops suspect was with you. I tried to warn you to stay out of that shit. Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you tell me you had the fucking Drug Queen hiding in your apartment? I’m connected bro. I coulda helped. If you ditch her now, tell the cops it was self-defense, they had y’all at gunpoint, you can still walk away from this. La Eme are known as terrorists. They’ve all done hard time. It’s a prison-based gang. Any judge or jury would believe this was self-defense.”
“Shit.” Adrian’s mind was racing a million miles an hour, a dozen possibilities for his bleak future spinning off in all directions.
“My advice, whether you want it or not, is to call a lawyer. Now.”
In the heat of the moment, Adrian hadn’t stopped to think anything through. He’d just gone with the flow and the adrenaline, doing what he had to. But this wasn’t Iraq.
His parents could probably help spring for a good attorney, and everyone at the hospital could testify he was such a good guy. Fuck running. Running was for cowards and guilty murderers. If he faced the law, now, with an attorney at his side and a plausible story, he could pull this off.
But what about Samantha?
No way she’d ever live down the warrants they had on her. If she was captured, she’d probably spend the next thirty-forty years behind bars, if not some worse fate when they discovered what she really was.
Fuck. Why did he even care?
“Adrian, I can hear you thinking, man. It’s about time you started thinking with the big head, instead of the little one. Chasing that tail got ya in a whole mess of shit. I can make some calls, find someone to get her out of town. She’s pure trouble, Adrian. You need to quit that woman, now. Right now. Where you at? I’ll come get you so your pickup doesn’t get impounded. I know a good attorney. He can make sure you get bail immediately.”
“Just back off and let me think for a minute!” That shut Crenshaw up. For a few seconds.
“Man, I could get my probation revoked just for calling you. I’m trying to help you, dude.”
Adrian opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped. If there was anything Crenshaw actually knew, it was how to deal with a major criminal case. The man was a legal encyclopedia, a jailhouse attorney.
“Okay, let’s meet tonight. The Alamo.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Crenshaw’s voice rang with incredulity. “There’s a dozen cops cruising around there on bicycles. They got pictures of her, man. They’re showing her hospital photos on the news. The woman is a hot commodity.”
“And why do you care?”
A pregnant pause. “I don’t need this shit. I’m just trying to help you man. You know what – forget I called, you deal with it.”
“Crenshaw, wait!”
For a moment, Adrian thought he’d disconnected the call before Crenshaw sighed. “Man, I really don’t need this.”
Adrian jumped in quickly. “How can you get her out of town to the coast? I want details.”
“To the coast?” Crenshaw’s voice lifted in interest. “That’s easy. Nobody’s looking for people smuggling someone out the country. All the law cares about is people trying to get in. We can tuck her away, no problem. Going to the coast is actually easier than trying to go north where the border checkpoints are. That’s smart, dude.”
“If I meet you tonight, you promise you can get her to the coast with no problems?”
“Adrian, there ain’t no guarantees in life. I promise that my boys will do their best, and they been doing this kinda shit for years. We got a network all over Texas.”
“Fuck, Sam’s not gonna like this at all.”
“Since when did you care? The woman is like the black plague. Dude, get rid of her.”
“Alright. I still say the Alamo.”
“You’ve been watching too much television.”
“Make it midnight. I need a little time.”
“Dude, people gotta work in the morning.”
“It’s Friday, Crenshaw. Make it midnight.”
Adrian disconnected the call, made sure the number was saved in his cell phone, and peeked under the covers to check on his naked, pale vampire who slept off the daylight wrapped around him. She was doing the coma routine again.
He slipped out from underneath her and headed straight for the shower, he had a big day ahead of him.
* * * *
Long hours passed as Adrian strolled through downtown San Antonio, hitting his to do list. He’d been watching the news on his cell phone, and simultaneously checking the clock every five minutes. They just kept replaying the same tired old clip of a body bag being hauled off in an ambulance, and the reporter standing out front of Adrian’s apartment complex spouting off speculations about Mafia wars.
The media circus was milking this shit for every drop of attention they could squeeze. Through it all, they kept flashing a shitty photo of Samantha lying in her hospital bed, looking half dead with huge bruised circles around her closed eyes. They were actively calling out to the community, offering a $5,000 reward to anyone who could identify the mystery woman, or come forward with information of her whereabouts.
“Five grand?” That won’t even cover a decent retainer for an Attorney. Who the hell would stick their neck out on a Mexican Mafia hit for a measly five grand?
No matter how many times he checked his cell, the damn clock would not speed up. Every minute of every hour crawled past, and not even the shopping or spicy-hot Thai food could distract his mind from that ticking clock awaiting sunset.
He bought a bottle of tequila, cracked it open right there on the street of the Riverwalk and tipped it back. The burn coated his throat, searing away his need for Samantha. Without lime and salt, it wasn’t quite the same. People looked at him funny as he chugged another hefty swig off the bottle. The paper sack barely hid the liquor from public view.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” He fake-lunged at a Latino who was staring at Adrian funny as he walked by. Adrian was ready to break Jose Cuervo over the top of somebody’s head.
“Pinche borracho está loco.” The man looked back over his shoulder several times as he sped away from Adrian.
“Man, she wasn’t lying.” Samantha had told the truth when she said they were bonded, but, she never explained what that actually meant while she was sleeping through the daylight. Adrian was going straight up berserk waiting for her, and he began to doubt he’d have the strength of will to ever let her leave his side.
“I can beat this. I know I can. She doesn’t own me. Nobody owns me.” He shook his head, tossed back another swig off the bottle and hoped his denial could carry him through this insane plan.
“I’ll finish off this bottle, wake her, and then her ass is mine, one last time.” He took another gulp, and let the alcohol dampen his need for her. Two more hours till sunset, and only half the bottle remained.
* * * *
Samantha woke up to the strong scent of tequila, and a warm lapping tongue sliding over her clit and down between her folds. The scruff of his unshaven beard tickled her inner thighs as his tongue probed inside her. “You make the best alarm clock, ever.” Her fingers curled into his hair, holding him down so she could grind into his face.
“Dios mio, that’s good!” One of his hands slid down her thigh, finger trailing under and in-between her bu
tt cheeks. She hoped he was going for it.
And he did, two fingers in her ass, exactly what she needed to come in his face. He ate her like a man starving, lips, teeth, tongue, aaah que bueno. “Don’t stop … don’t …”
Suddenly he was up, sliding towards her, his strong naked body moving between her thighs. His smiling face, glistening wet with her sex, descended in a smothering kiss as he slid his cock all the way inside her, one solid thrust. She could taste the liquor on his breath as he assaulted her with his mouth.
She screamed into his kiss as she clawed his back in passion, pain and orgasm. He wouldn’t let her breathe. His frenzied, teeth-gnashing kiss was all consuming, even as he filled her completely, his powerful hips digging his cock all the way to her limit.
She couldn’t wait another second to bite him. She had to have something in her mouth. Now. Grunting in pain and pleasure, she jerked his head to the side and sank her teeth in deep.
“Yes!” As he roared in her ear, he shoved inside her one last inch.
Pulling his hair, claws dug into his shoulder, she came again, and again, grinding along with the wondrous warmth of his orgasm flooding into her.
Samantha remembered herself and let go of his neck with a growling sigh of sublime pleasure.
He finally collapsed onto her, all that cock and glorious man flesh pressing her down into the bed.
“You have to do this every night. Please.” She fought to catch her breath. “Wake me up like this every single night.”
She shuddered and twitched, feeling sated, relaxed, tense – euphoric – filled to bursting and loving every torturous minute of it.
He finally regained his breath, blowing tequila in her face. “Yeah. That was … oh god, it’s gonna be hard to let you go…”
She went rigid. His fatalistic tone sent an immediate spike of warning through her heart. “What do you mean?” He was never letting her go, never. She owned his ass, his cock, and every other inch of his body. “Wherever I go, you go.”
He sighed and lifted his weight off her, sliding out from her as he slumped over on his side. He wasn’t even concerned at her blood on his cock, didn’t try to get up and wash off.
She rolled over on top of him, grabbing his face so he would look her in the eyes. “Adrian Faulkner. What. Do. You. Mean?”
His dilated, drunken gaze avoided her eyes, but when he finally looked at her, the truth settled into her belly with a sick churn. “Oh god, what have you done?”
“I can’t live life as a wanted man, a murderer on the run with a Drug Queen. I just can’t. You don’t know what I will become. I have lived on that edge before, in Iraq. I want something better for my life. That’s why I took the paramedic training. I don’t want to be a mercenary.”
“Adrian, this is not about what you want. And we will not run forever, trust me. We just need to get out of the U.S. for a while, until the heat dies down. It won’t always be like this.”
“Look, there was a counselor I met a couple of months before I discharged from the army. He … he told me some things that I didn’t believe at the time. I didn’t want to believe it. But, I know he was right.”
“What does this have to do with us getting our asses to Corpus Cristi, right now?”
“There’s something wrong with me, Sam. I’m not like everyone else.”
“Duh. You think I didn’t see that in the first fifteen minutes in your apartment?”
He frowned and looked at her strangely. “Let me finish. He saw it in my military record. He could read between the lines. Damn shrinks always get inside your fucking head.”
“I am still waiting.” She reached down to stroke his balls and run her fingers over his wet cock.
His hand grabbed hers and pulled it back up to rest against his chest. “In Iraq, when the shooting started, I was afraid, just like everyone else, but I also caught this rush, almost like a drug high. Last night, when I killed those men, it was the same. I like it, the violence, the challenge, the intensity of the confrontation. I like it … a lot.”
She waited impatiently for him to get to the point. So far, all he’d done was convince her he was indeed the right man to have at her side.
“Don’t you get it? I’m not right in the head, Samantha. The shrink called me a borderline sociopath. But, I’m pretty sure I crossed that border a long time ago.”
Shrinks and their labels. Why can’t a person just be different, odd, weird, obnoxious? Why does everything need a classification? Probably so they can sell more drugs and sponge more counseling visits. “I don’t give a shit what your shrink said. I need you, Adrian. I need a man who can take down mafia soldiers and not think twice about it. I’m not complaining.”
A switch clicked in his face, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“It’s no good. I don’t want to be that man. I’m a paramedic. I save people’s lives. I can be a better man. I know I can, I just need to try harder.”
Lord, this was the wrong time for him to start having a conscience. “Well, we can’t always get what we want. But if you try, sometimes you get what you need.” She grinned and pecked his lips.
His eyes flashed. “Did you just quote the Rolling Stones?”
“More paraphrase than quote.”
He laughed in her face, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m serious. Adrian, the best thing you can do, for me, and for yourself, is to accept who you are, what you are. Accept it because that’s how we’ll survive, and there isn’t much choice in the matter. You’re stuck with me. Where I go, you go.”
He smiled, kissed her back, and swatted her ass. “Okay, come on. We’re gonna have fun tonight. Its Friday, our last night in the country, let’s make it count.”
He slipped out from under her and reached into a shopping bag at the side of the bed. “I brought you a little something.”
“Adrian, that’s so beautiful!” She snatched it from his hand. A dress. Not just any dress, a slinky black cocktail dress. What do you know? The guy actually had good taste.
* * * *
Chapter 18
“Where are we going?” Sam checked out Adrian thoroughly as he strolled down the hallway, headed towards the front desk. He was all slicked up in black jeans, glossy black cowboy boots, and a red shirt that gave his hazel eyes a fiery spark.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her past the desk and into the lounge. The place was already filling with people. A salsa bar. How had he known to choose this place, this music, with the old-world Mexico look, and a hip, upbeat sound? She loved it.
Music blared loud and obnoxious. A DJ sat high on a balcony mixing up beats and blending songs together. She hadn’t been out to a bar on a Friday night since … never. In her former life, the master wouldn’t allow such things. The only time she ever had to herself was when he sent her to Mexico or the U.S., to manage his business, or do his dirty work. Even then, he kept tabs on her every few hours. He had held a link directly into her mind.
But that line was broken, along with his hold over her. Samantha was free to be a woman, with a lovely hunk of a man on her arm, dancing to hip hop and salsa, in a bar, just like everyone else. Made her feel almost normal for a moment.
Then the music changed, something slow. Adrian pulled her up against him tightly, his fingers squeezed her ass. She loved the feel of him, and didn’t care if he raised a few eyebrows with the placement of his hand. This man was hers, and he could put his hands where he pleased – where she pleased.
They danced slow and sensual, not a dance, more a sliding hug, with kisses and caresses, a wondrous feeling so foreign to her. She had never known this kind of casual thing with a man. The music changed and the floor crowded with people. Adrian guided her as they swirled through the ebb and flow of the dance floor. He wasn’t Michael Jackson, all he had was this simple two-step routine, but she didn’t care. She was dancing with her man, and though silly, and certainly not the wisest thing to do at the moment, it was fun.
&nbs
p; She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had this much fun. The music changed again, a slow R&B ballad and he slipped his leg firm between hers, massaging her warm center in a slow grind.
God, she was so wet, and ready to give up that virginity one more time. She glanced at the restroom, wondering if there was enough room in the stall to get it on real quick.
He leaned in close, his nose nuzzling into her hair. “Why are you so quiet? What’s on your mind?” His lips teased her as he spoke right against her ear.
She looked up into his eyes, this enigmatic male she had claimed, and decided to be truthful. “I was thinking of you.”
He gave her that naughty grin that she had learned to be wary of. There was something different about him tonight. He seemed anxious to do things with her, focused solely on her, spending time with her. He’d bought her this fuck-me dress and matching black sandals, took her dancing. Very uncharacteristic of the man she’d been sleeping with for the past three nights.
She nipped at his ear with her teeth and growled low. “I was wondering what you’re up to.”
He answered with a kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, which is what she hoped he was up to. The growing lump in his pants brushed against her hip as he crushed her lips with his own. They had stopped moving to the music, nothing but hot, juicy kisses that tasted so good her teeth dropped down, ready for something more.
The music changed, and he pulled away, glancing around once to catch a couple people staring at them.
“We’d better go before someone recognizes you.” He snagged her arm and escorted her off the dance floor.
“What do you mean? How would anyone recognize me?”
He kept walking, adjusting the crotch of his pants as he pulled her out of the bar. “Sam, it’s all over the news, the shooting at my apartment. A witness saw me fleeing the scene with a woman. The cops have figured out we’re together. We’re now both San Antonio’s most wanted.”
The Nightlife: San Antonio Page 12
